A Beautiful Mess
by saradelovely
Summary: Everyone assumed Finn and Quinn were still in love if they got back together. They were. They just loved each other a little less than everyone assumed.


Finn liked Quinn a little more than the other girls around him, hence why it was only natural that they would be together. He was the quarterback, and she was the head cheerleader, this is how things _work_ in the social hierarchy of the school system. They were going to be together for four years, go to college, live together, get married, babies, the whole nine yards. They would be the _perfect _couple. If everyone envied them now, imagine the jealousy that would fester in everyone else years from now, in the future.

And they were perfect until they _weren't_. Years from now, when they look back on their time together, _separately_, he'll remember this is the time that cuts the before from the after. The curtain fell, and he wishes he could make it back to the other side.

It started with Rachel and Glee but he didn't stay long enough at her house that night for anything to happen, no matter how sexy she looked sprawled across her bed in _that _position. He loves Rachel's voice, and it's not because it drowns out Quinn screaming all the time. He likes the way she dresses, and how adorable she looks when she's practicing new dance moves. There's just something _real _about her, a change from Quinn and her upkeep of coldness. He like_s_ Rachel but there's _Quinn_,his girlfriend, there wasn't enough for him to cheat, let alone _leave _Quinn. He left that night because he believes in fidelity and monogamy, and _one_ girl, even if it's the _wrong_ girl.

Wandering over back to his house, nursing over a slight hangover, he sees Quinn fall out of Puck's window, and it's late, maybe his eyes deceivedhim, maybe it's the shots he downed, but then he sees them together the next morning, and how Quinn presses her index fingers to her lips, a mutually understood symbol for silence. A sinking feeling settles in his stomach, one that _never_ leaves. He can't ask the question point blank, too afraid of what the response would be, so he leaves it alone, unsure of how to proceed.

He's not _that_ stupid, he _gets _it. He may have trouble with his left from right, and Spanish might be a little difficult to translate sometimes. He's aware what the student body, hell even_ outsiders_, think about him, how oblivious he is to _everything _but really, ignorance is bliss, _especially_ given the circumstances. You'd pretend to be oblivious too, if you knew your best friend slept with _and_ impregnated your girlfriend, and they're _both_ lying about it. Acting oblivious might open him up to judgment from others but it's better than facing the _truth_.

When Quinn tells him she's pregnant, he wants to laugh in her face, ask her what _he _has to do with that but he doesn't. He stays silent, and lets her talk. He doesn't even interrupt when she launches into her flimsy explanation on _how_ he got her pregnant. Sperm in a hot tub? _Really_?

But then she looks at him with those eyes. He's seen those eyes before, how tired and sad they could be, underneath _it _all. He knows how difficult it is to maintain the facade sometimes. He does it _every _day he looks at her. He hears her hiccuping into his shirt, doesn't have to look at it to know there's tear stains. There will never be a _more _perfect moment than this to expose her lies, to break up like he's been waiting, to leave _her_ like she left _him. _Or he could stay in character, and continue being the doting boyfriend, like he's done all _these_ weeks, and assume responsibility for a child that isn't _his._

So he stays. He stays for Quinn because she needs him and despite the mis fortunate situation they've both found themselves in, she chose _him. _This should swell his heart with joy a little more but it doesn't, and he doesn't understand why. She chose _him_ and it just makes him feel _different_ inside. He ignores Rachel, he avoids her questioning looks and her vacant expressions when she looks at him. He can't explain it to her, she'd never understand. Rachel may _want_ to be with him but Quinn, Quinn _needs _him. There's a sharp difference between the two. Rachel could survive on her own, that independent streak of hers will take her _everywhere_.

Finn gets prepared for things, he's used to the flow of everything. He stays and lets Quinn take him to meet her parents, lets her move in with him when they force her to move. He never utters a word at night when she's lying next to him, never makes a sound. He never asks for more than she can give, and he gently pushes her away when she touches him. He doesn't want to be intimate with her. The thought of _that _leaves him nauseated inside. _She _slept with _his _best friend, and the result is clear as day for others to see. Touching her only makes him get out of bed, and sit on the bathroom floor, trying to keep the vomit at bay.

He keeps his friendship the way it is, and keeps his mouth shut when Puck questions about the baby. He never rolls his eyes at his _supportive _best friend. He accepts Puck's financial assistance, answers politely when Puck sends texts about all the OB/GYN appointments. Quinn is in her fourth month by the time he musters some excitement, a little under at the halfway mark but things happen, and she never makes it to the halfway mark. In the hospital room, Quinn holds Finn's hand, and Puck takes Finn's, and they all share the grief equally. They would have _all_ been parents, and now, now they won't. Not at sixteen. The three leave the secret of paternity, and that night, unspoken. Now isn't _the_ time, not that there ever might _be._ They call the baby Drizzle, like the soft rain every girl wants to be kissed under, the warmth before the storm.

Three days later, he's not surprised when Quinn breaks up with him. Neither of them are, just surprised it took _this_ long. She looks at him when she gives her speech, and he has to look away. They both know it's for the best, and he's waiting for her to run to Puck, leaving him clear to run to Rachel. He goes out for shots with Puck that night, anyway, just because it's protocol.

But he doesn't have to wait long to have Quinn run _back_. Puck is with Rachel, and Rachel is with Puck, and there's no room for Quinn in their relationship. Puck _believes_ in loyalty and faithfulness to one girl. Something _has _to be _wrong_ with _this _sentence. So, Quinn comes back, she loves him, she tells Finn he's the only one for her, lying through her teeth, her words mismatching her speech. He love_s_ her too, leaving out the key part in that sentence, he wasn't _in_ love. He takes Quinn back _again_, because if he can't be with Rachel, he's forced to settle.

He _still _watches Rachel sometimes, waiting to catch her looking back. He wonders what she sees in Puck, _Puck _of all people. The guy is his best friend and has several redeeming characteristics, _enough_ for Finn to overlook the fact that he's knocked up Quinn but Puck, Puck with Rachel leaves him _speechless_.

He corners her in the hall one day, pulling her hand into a deserted closet, determined to find out what _Puck_ has that he doesn't but the words come out wrong, and he ends up kissing her instead and finally, when they stop, she just looks at him with eyes of pity. She doesn't say anything, just leans from right to left or left to right, _whatever_, and she just whispers she's happy, and she wishes he'd find happiness with Quinn too. He wants to argue she kissed him back, she _did_, but she just leaves him standing there alone, and he can only watch her go.

Finn doesn't understand how this happened.

Everyone assumed Finn and Quinn were still in love if they got back together. They were. They just loved each other a little _less_ than everyone assumed.


End file.
